


Up and Down and Over and Out

by Misanagi



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Action/Adventure, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-02
Updated: 2010-04-02
Packaged: 2017-10-08 15:15:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/76971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misanagi/pseuds/Misanagi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quatre has to lead some Preventer recruits in their first assignment. Things don't turn out as well as expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Up and Down and Over and Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moonraven_croft](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=moonraven_croft).



> Written for the Whumped!Quatre Ficathon filling [](http://moonraven-croft.livejournal.com/profile)[**moonraven_croft**](http://moonraven-croft.livejournal.com/) request. I'm sorry this was so late. This is also my first attempt at fun whumping. I hope it worked.
> 
> Thanks a lot to Anne for the beta. *hugs*

"For the last time, Wufei, I'm not doing it." Quatre crossed his arms above his chest and gave Wufei his best CEO look.

However, Wufei wasn't a squeamish forty-year-old shareholder and returned Quatre's look with an amused smirk. "Winner, you are insulting me if you think that look is going to work with me. Stop being stubborn; you know you are needed."

Quatre changed his CEO look to the Gundam pilot glare. "I'm needed to evaluate and plan missions, to figure out things you've been trying unsuccessfully for months, and to go to those special assignments that only other four agents can handle. I'm not needed to take care of ten new recruits for you."

Wufei sighed, obviously trying very hard to control his temper. "They aren't new, Winner. They are the graduating class. They are guarding the meeting tomorrow at the Hotel Royal. You would just need to be the team leader." He ran his hand through his hair. "Damn it, Quatre, it couldn't be easier and I really need your help."

"Then ask someone else."

"Who?" Wufei stood up, put both hands on Quatre's desk and leaned forward. "Sally needs to go with me to guard the conference at L3. Relena and half the senate are going to be there. Maxwell and Yuy, who were supposed to take that assignment, were unlucky enough to get the flu and Trowa mysteriously disappeared the moment he knew I was looking for a replacement. Quatre, there's no one else."

Chewing carelessly on a pencil, Quatre leaned back in his chair. "I can find Trowa." After all, Trowa was his lover, they lived together and no matter how good Trowa was at hiding, Quatre could always find him.

Wufei huffed. "Barton has no patience. He will probably knock out a recruit before the day is over."

Quatre rolled his eyes. Wufei was exaggerating. "And what makes you think I won't?"

"If I can handle them, so can you." Wufei looked at his watch and then glared at Quatre. "I'm going to be late for my shuttle," he grumbled and then gave Quatre a truly desperate look. Granted, it only lasted a second or so, but it was enough for Quatre to see how much Wufei needed the help.

"Fine." Quatre sighed.

Wufei grinned and put a folder with the mission parameters on Quatre's desk. He bowed his head slightly as a form of thanks and then left, closing the door behind him.

Quatre glared at the folder on his desk. He was going to regret this.

* * *

"I knew you would say yes." Trowa took another potato chip from his plate with his fingers and brought it to his mouth.

Quatre glared at his lover and when he was done chewing a bite of salmon he said, "Just for that I should make you take the assignment."

Trowa licked the salt from his fingers before taking another chip. "Too late."

The smug look in Trowa's face was enough to make Quatre want to throw a piece of salmon at him. Even though Quatre knew he could depend on Trowa when he really needed him, he also knew that in situations like this it was every man for himself. "I'm waking you up tomorrow at five. If I don't get to sleep then you shouldn't either."

Trowa shrugged and licked his fingers again, this time deliberately slow. "Suit yourself, but you might be late."

A smile found its way to Quatre's face, and he could feel his bad mood drift away. He could always be grumpy tomorrow. He took Trowa's hand in his and guided it to his mouth. Quatre licked Trowa's fingers slowly, imitating the way his lover had acted only moments ago. "Mmm tasty."

The rest of the meal was forgotten and the dishes were left for the maid to clean in the morning. Right now, Trowa and Quatre had more pressing matters to attend to.

* * *

Quatre closed his car door and put on his Preventers' jacket. He took the tall cup of coffee he had bought on the way in, and headed for the Academy gymnasium, not even bothering to take his dark sunglasses off. Having to meet the recruits at six in the morning wasn't Quatre's idea of fun, especially when Trowa had kept him up most of the night. He would rather be home, in bed with his lover, than babysitting recruits.

The ten recruits were standing at attention in the middle of the gym, looking at Quatre with different expressions in their faces. They were young, Quatre thought, and then he had to suppress the urge to chuckle when he realized they were probably his age, some even older.

Standing in front of them, Quatre spoke in a firm tone, "As you are well aware, your instructors are needed elsewhere and they have asked me to act as team leader for your assignment today." He took a small sip of coffee. "According to your files you've completed several simulations successfully, but this is your first real guard duty."

He walked slowly, looking carefully at each of the recruits before him. "Captain Chang informed me that you've already been briefed. The meeting at the Hotel Royal is very low key. The representatives attending aren't the most important in their respective cabinets. They all have their own security, but we are in charge of the security of the entire event." Quatre looked at them from above his sunglasses. "I hope I don't need to remind you that any political gathering, no matter how low key, is a possible target and that you are expected to treat this as if you were guarding Relena Darlian herself. Any questions?"

No one spoke.

"Go gather your equipment. I expect you in the bus in exactly seven minutes."

No one moved.

Quatre narrowed his eyes. "Now!"

After the recruits ran out of the gym, Quatre took a moment to finish his coffee. He was in a very sour mood. As much as he didn't want to take his frustrations out of the recruits, they weren't really helping themselves. He already knew that at least two of them wouldn't arrive at the bus on time; it was obvious by how long it had taken them to actually follow his orders.

Quatre headed out to the parking lot, throwing the empty cup of coffee in a trash can by the door. His car and the ugly brown bus with the words "Preventers Academy" printed on the side were the only vehicles there. "Very stealthy," Quatre muttered, making a mental note to talk to Wufei about the advantages of being discrete with the transportation arrangements.

Inside the bus, the driver was sleeping, snoring loudly while the radio played some techno music. Quatre got inside and cleared his throat loudly. The driver jumped a little, opened his eyes and straightened himself on the chair. "Oh sorry, Sir." He laughed nervously. "It's so early, you understand…"

Quatre let the guard fidget for a while under his stare before he turned to the door. He glanced at his watch; the recruits had one minute left.

Only six of them arrived on time.

There was no reprimand. Quatre simply memorized their names to make a note on their files when the assignment was over.

"Excuse me, Sir?" said one of the recruits who hadn't been late. Quatre remembered his name was Jefferson. "Do we get to keep our weapons after the mission is over?"

Quatre didn't bother to reply and simply turned his eyes to the road. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

"Grey!" Quatre could feel a vein throbbing in his forehead. "Release Senator Wilhem at once."

"But, Sir," Grey's voice sounded in Quatre's earpiece. "He refused to let me frisk him." He let go of the senator's arm, but remained standing in front of the politician, effectively blocking the entrance.

"That's what the scan inside is for," Quatre explained, speaking very slowly. "You should only frisk suspicious individuals after the scans go off. Is Senator Wilhem a suspicious individual?" Quatre had to try very hard to keep himself from yelling the last sentence.

Grey stepped aside but he kept glaring at the senator's back until he disappeared inside the building.

"Grey, change positions with Henderson." Quatre massaged his temples as he monitored the perimeter from his position outside the hotel. From there he could watch the entrance and the locations of most of the recruits. Some others were inside and at the back but since the politicians were arriving right now, the entrance was the place with the highest activity. Quatre needed to stay there until the conference had started, and then he could make a few rounds to see how the other recruits were doing.

Quatre didn't trust them to be unsupervised for long periods of time. So far the recruits had managed to misplace some important documents while combing the conference room – gratefully they had reappeared later in one of the bathrooms, - broken down one of the elevators, harassed a sixty-year-old janitor, scared the civilians, and insulted three senators. Quatre was torn between pitying Wufei for having to deal with this on daily basis, and killing him with his bare hands.

The day was hot. The sun was shining brightly and only helping to make Quatre feel even more annoyed. Right now he should be in his cool office, sharing a cup of coffee with Trowa. Usually thoughts of Trowa managed to make Quatre considerably happier, but right now it only reminded him of the things this irritating assignment was keeping him from.

"Quatre? Quatre Raberba Winner?"

Glancing away from the crowd, Quatre looked at the man walking up to him. "Emmanuel Roth." The name was said through clenched teeth. Quatre didn't even bother to give the man a fake smile.

His high profile was one of the reasons why Quatre never took guard duty. Nine out of ten times he was recognized by someone wanting to know what the missing heir of Winner Enterprises was doing in a Preventers' uniform.

A long time ago, before the war, Quatre and Emmanuel had attended the same private school. Emmanuel was older and a few grades up. His family didn't like the Winners very much, mostly because the Winners had the power and influence the Roths craved. As a result, Quatre had spent the two years he had been in the boarding school in a constant fight with him.

Emmanuel eyed Quatre up and down, not even trying to hide his contempt. "I never thought we would meet again in a place like this."

"In a political conference?" Quatre's voice was filled with sarcasm. He turned his eyes back to the crowd, dismissing the other man.

In return, Emmanuel gave a short laugh. "Well, inside, maybe but certainly not /guarding/ it. Another short laugh. "I thought that when people called you eccentric they just meant your avoidance of all political and social functions. I never expected this."

Quatre bit back the rude remarks he wanted to make and just said, "I'm working now. We should schedule a meeting to get properly reacquainted."

"Certainly." The voice reflected no desire to follow through. "I'll let you get back to your…" a cough, "job. I'm sure it requires your utmost attention." He walked pass Quatre, bumping into him on his way.

Trying to calm himself, Quatre took a deep breath. It wouldn't do for him to tackle Emmanuel to the floor. What example would that be for the recruits? Instead, he just kept his eyes on the crowd and noticed a familiar figure coming his way. He smiled.

"I thought you were hiding," Quatre said when Trowa was close enough.

Trowa moved to stand beside Quatre. "I decided to take pity on my lover and come and visit him." They didn't kiss or touch. Quatre was in the middle of an assignment and that would be inappropriate behavior. "Who was that man?" asked Trowa. Quatre glanced at Trowa and noticed that although Trowa seemed calm, there was definitely some jealousy in his eyes.

Quatre snorted. "You don't have to worry about him. I wouldn't touch him with a ten foot pole."

There was no reply but Trowa keep glaring at the space Emmanuel had disappeared into.

"Now, why won't you tell me why are you really here?" asked Quatre, pushing his sunglasses up.

"Une made me. She said you might need backup."

This time Quatre turned to look at Trowa. "Why?"

Trowa looked serious. "There was a threat received a few minutes ago at HQ. Une doesn't think it's real, but she sent me anyway."

There was no doubt in Quatre's mind that Trowa had demanded the assignment as soon as he had found out there was a possible risk. They usually partnered in their missions, relying on each other whether it was for simple house chores or to watch each other's back when they were in danger. They were partners in every sense of the word and Trowa wouldn't leave Quatre alone if there was the slightest chance that he would be needed.

"You're not much use without equipment," said Quatre. "There's an extra earpiece on the bus over there. Channel two." There was no need to ask if Trowa was armed. With a nod, Trowa walked towards the bus.

Quatre tensed. If there really was a threat, no matter how small it might be, the recruits wouldn't be ready to handle it. It was Quatre's responsibility to make sure things ran smoothly. He wouldn't let anything happen.

He noticed something suspicious about the man as soon as he saw him. His jacket was too big, he hadn't shaved and his shoes were muddy. Quatre would have dismissed all of those things if it wasn't for the way the man walked, quickly, looking around and favoring one side. He was carrying a gun.

"03, do you copy?" There was no answer. Trowa probably hadn't hooked up his communication equipment yet.

"Are we using codenames, Captain Winner? How come I didn't get one?"

Not bothering to reply to the recruit, Quatre started walking towards the suspect. Usually he would have sent someone who was closer and he would have kept watch but he didn't trust the cadets, and since Trowa wasn't answering he would have to do it himself. There was no time to wait.

Stepping in front of the suspect, Quatre put one hand on the man's chest and kept the other hovering just above his weapon. "Sir, I need to ask you to accompany me."

The man's eyes widened and his mouth opened but no sound came out. The slight movement of the man's eyes to the side was all the warning Quatre needed. With a brusque move the suspect tried to flee, but Quatre was ready for it. Quickly, he used his left hand to grab the man's forearm and twist it behind his back.

Letting out a grunt, the man fell to his knees. Quatre stood behind him, keeping an iron grip on the man's arm. Since the suspect was under control, Quatre moved his right hand away from the gun and reached for his handcuffs. He had just closed one cuff over the man's wrist when he heard a shot and a split second later, he felt a sharp pain in his right arm.

Quatre's eyes watered and he let out a grunt. His grip on the suspect slacked slightly and the man took the chance to try to run again. Only then did Quatre realize that he had fallen to his knees. He tried to stand up to chase after the suspect but it wasn't necessary. Trowa was standing two steps ahead, and he didn't look happy.

Trowa punched the man on the face, and it didn't look like he had held back at all. The man appeared to be unconscious but Trowa finished putting the cuffs on him anyway. Most of the people had already entered the event, but the few that were outside had ran panicked in all directions.

Putting his left hand over the wound, Quatre tried to stand up again. He swayed on his feet and would have fallen if it wasn't for Trowa's quick reflexes. Trowa lowered him slowly to the ground and Quatre leaned back against Trowa's chest, trying to focus his vision.

"Did you get the shooter?" Quatre asked through his teeth, trying to keep from moaning in pain. He had been shot before but that didn't mean that he was used to it.

Quatre's vision focused just in time to see Trowa's eyes narrow with fury. Trowa didn't lose his temper often, but Quatre could tell Trowa was just a moment away from shooting someone.

"I got him," Trowa growled. "He won't be waking up soon."

Two of the recruits approached them, looking scared and pale.

"Wha… What should we do with…" Mendez kept her eyes down but it was clear that she was talking to Trowa, and was quite scared to be doing so, "with the, with the man in handcuffs?"

"You," Trowa pointed to Skinner, standing behind Mendez, "Get someone to help you and get him on the bus. Send the other one out after you are done and you stay with the suspect."

Skinner saluted and left. Martinez was still standing, looking very uncomfortable.

Trowa ignored her, took out his cellphone and dilled a number quickly. "Une, we need an ambulance and backup now! Quatre was shot and these kids you sent him with are completely incompetent."

There was a pause while Trowa listened to Une's reply. "Now," he repeated, with an icy tone, and then slammed the phone shut.

"You need to assume command, Trowa." Quatre's sunglasses had slipped down enough for him to be able to give Trowa a serious look. Trowa was the only one qualified to keep some kind of security going while they waited for reinforcements. Quatre's injury would have to wait.

Trowa sighed. "I know." He helped Quatre sit up on his own and then stood up. He took off his uniform tie and secured it tightly over Quatre's wound. Quatre hissed but then gave Trowa a nod, telling him he was fine. Trowa returned the nod and then glared at Martinez. The girl stopped breathing.

"You don't move from his side." Trowa's words were slow and the tone menacing. The girl turned a shade paler. After giving Quatre one last look, Trowa moved away.

Quatre spent the next few minutes trying to breathe through the pain. The bleeding seemed to have slowed but Quatre was still feeling lightheaded. He could hear Trowa giving commands through the comm link but Quatre was finding it hard to concentrate on what was being said. Instead, he focused on the recruit standing above him. She wasn't as pale as before but she still looked scared. "Are you all okay?" Quatre asked, trying to sound kind, but his voice sounded more pained than anything.

After a moment of hesitation the girl replied, "All except Jefferson."

"What happened to him?" This time Quatre did sound concerned.

"Well," the girl shifted her eyes. "That other captain, the guy who was here with you… well he knocked him out."

"What? Why would Trowa do that?"

The girl hesitated again. "I guess it was because Jefferson was the one who shot you."

In a split second confusion, comprehension, disbelieve, annoyance, frustration and finally fury ran through Quatre's mind, and when his brain settled again there was only one thought left. 'I'm going kill Wufei.'

* * *

Fortunately, the reinforcements hadn't taken too long to arrive. Lady Une herself had come to take over the scene with a group of experienced Preventers, and had dismissed the recruits. The suspect had been, in fact, holding a gun. He was still unconscious when he was transported to Preventers' HQ. Unfortunately, the ambulance hadn't shown up yet.

"That's it," Trowa growled. "Come on. I'm driving you myself."

Quatre nodded and let Trowa help him up. His arm was still hurting him but the lightheadedness was worrying him more. He really wasn't looking forward to a blood transfusion.

They made their way slowly to Trowa's car, Quatre leaning heavily on Trowa, and Trowa supporting him. While Trowa opened the passenger door for him, Quatre saw a familiar figure approaching them and winced.

"Dear Lord, Quatre. I heard the commotion and I somehow knew you had managed to get yourself injured." The concern in Emmanuel's voice was obviously fake, and while his face was serious, his eyes were certainly amused.

"Who are you?" Trowa didn't look happy and Quatre didn't miss the fact that one of his hands was already closed into a fist.

Emmanuel gave Trowa a dismissive look and then replied, "Emmanuel Roth. I'm a friend of Mr. Winner."

"I've never seen you." Trowa's tone was as cold as ice.

"I don't suppose we socialize with the same kind of people." Emmanuel shifted his arrogant look to Quatre. "Quatre, on the other hand, likes to /mix/ his company."

Quatre turned his face away from Emmanuel. The little patience he had left had gone away when he had been shot. "Let's go, Trowa," he said, climbing into the car, but Emmanuel grabbed the door handle and stopped Quatre from closing it.

All the fake amiability was gone from the man's face and now all that was left was a mix of self righteousness, anger and satisfaction. "I knew you would end up like this one day, Winner. You've always been a failure and I only regret I didn't see you when you were shot." He laughed. "You probably cried like a little—"

Quatre didn't see Trowa but he did see the fist connecting with Emmanuel's nose. With a very undignified squeal, the man fell on his butt and put both of his hands over his nose. There were tears in his eyes.

The door was closed softly and moments later Trowa was sitting behind the wheel. Quatre was still gaping at Emmanuel through the open window. As the car moved away, Quatre heard Emmanuel shouting at them.

"Promise me something, Trowa," Quatre said, closing his eyes and trying to find a comfortable position. "Don't punch anyone else today."

Trowa didn't answer and Quatre sighed. He would just have to warn people to stay away from his lover.

* * *

The bullet had managed to fracture the bone and was still inside Quatre's arm. However, the bone hadn't been displaced and the x-rays didn't show any shattered fragments. There had been some blood loss but there was no need for a transfusion. A simple procedure with some local anesthesia would take care of extracting the bullet and cleaning the wound before stitching it closed and putting a regeneration cast over the fractured bone, or that's what the doctors had said.

Luckily, since it was a Preventers' hospital, there were doctors with high enough clearance to see Quatre's chart and notice the unusually high tolerance to drugs. "Captain Winner, we've adjusted the anesthesia according to your chart. Hopefully it will numb your entire arm for a couple of hours."

Quatre was sitting on the examination table. He was naked from the waist up and still wearing his uniform pants. Trowa had taken his sunglasses away as soon as they'd entered the hospital.

"Hopefully?" Trowa was glaring at the doctor and Quatre couldn't resist a smile when he saw the doctor take a step back.

"I assure you, Captain Barton, that we'll provide Captain Winner with the best possible care."

By the look in Trowa's eyes the 'best possible care' wasn't good enough. Before Trowa could manage to hit the fourth person today, Quatre said, "My arm is numb."

The doctor reached for his implements and Trowa moved behind Quatre where he would be able to see everything the doctor did.

Five minutes into the procedure Quatre realized his arm wasn't as numb as it was supposed to be. What he was feeling couldn't be described as pain, exactly, but it was uncomfortable and it actually made him more nervous than pain would have. Pain was familiar; he understood pain; this feeling, whatever it was, was more irritating than anything.

Suddenly there was a flash of light and Quatre was blind for a moment. He blinked a couple of times just to see more flashes as soon as he opened his eyes. "What the..?"

"Mr. Winner, is it true that you were injured today in a Preventers' assignment?"

"Did you disappear to work as a secret agent for the ESUN government?"

"Aren't you really hiding from a rumored sex scandal between you and the Vice Foreign Minister Darlian?"

"What's your rank? Are you really an agent? Where did you get your training? Do you have any field experience?"

"Mr. Winner, what are you feeling right now?"

Quatre just blinked. He was about to open his mouth to reply something, whatever, just anything to make them shut up, when he heard a low growl behind him.

"Out!" Trowa was suddenly in front of the door, slamming it closed and locking it. Quatre didn't know if the reporters had been fast enough to move back and avoid being hit by the door.

Trowa leaned back on the door and turned his eyes again to the working doctor.

"How the hell did they know I was here?" Quatre asked. "I haven't had to deal with reporters since before the war. How did they find me?" This wasn't good. He had successfully avoided the public eye and found a place to live quietly with Trowa. Except for the occasional encounter with some society type, Quatre had managed to remain anonymous. How had they…? "Roth." Quatre was angry, and the irritating feeling in his arm wasn't helping.

"This has been a stupid fucked up day!"

* * *

"Quatre, darling, you really should just send the man a thank you note. You look positively fierce in that picture. I wouldn't be surprised if there was already a fanclub in the making." The amusement in Dorothy's voice and the devious smirk on her face told Quatre that she was enjoying this last development way too much.

Quatre growled and glared at the paper in his hand. The front page of ten different newspapers featured the picture the reporters had managed to take from Quatre yesterday. The one Quatre was glaring at had the words 'Quatre Winner, billionaire peace guardian" above the picture.

"No chest hair," said Dorothy casually, "somehow I'm not surprised."

Throwing the paper on the table, Quatre leaned back on his pillows and closed his eyes. "Dorothy, not now."

She gave an amused laugh. "Well, dear, you should know better than to call me unless you are ready to battle."

"I need a favor." Quatre opened his eyes and gave Dorothy a serious look.

Leaning closer to the vid, Dorothy ran a finger over one of her eyebrows. "How interesting. Do elaborate."

"Emmanuel Roth."

"From the L4 Roths?" Dorothy made a disgusted look. "Ignorant fools, all of them." She paused and a moment later her lips curved into a smile. Quatre didn't want to know what she was planning. "I hope you realize you'll be in my debt, Quatre Winner."

Quatre nodded. "Of course."

"Until the next opportunity then," she said, and the connection was cut.

Quatre hoped he hadn't made a mistake, and ignored the uneasy feeling in his chest.

* * *

Glancing at his watch, Quatre realized that he would still have to wait another two hours before the hospital would let him leave. They had insisted on keeping him over night for observation and nothing Quatre would say could convince them otherwise.

Trowa had stayed with him and only stepped out of the room thirty minutes ago to go home and get Quatre some clothes. Not that the entire world hadn't already seen him half naked, but Quatre was still reluctant to leave the hospital wearing a torn and bloody shirt and a Preventers' jacket.

There was a soft knock on the door and then it opened slightly to show the head of one of the recruits. "Captain Barton isn't here, right?"

"Jefferson," Quatre said, recognizing him. "No, he's out."

Slowly, Jefferson entered the room, closing the door behind him and standing uneasily by the door. Only then did Quatre notice that one of the cadet's eyes had an angry purple bruise around it and was almost swollen shut.

"I'm sorry, Sir," Jefferson said, looking at the floor and shifting his weight from one foot to another. "I thought the man had overpowered you or something and I wanted to help." He lifted his eyes to give Quatre one desperate look before he turned his eyes down again. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Quatre wanted to be angry. He wanted to yell at the recruit, vent all his frustrations away and scare him so much that he wouldn't want to hold a gun ever again. It was simply ridiculous! He had been shot by his own subordinate because the recruit thought he needed help? Quatre couldn't help but laugh. It wasn't an amused laugh but a resigned "this can't happen in real life" laugh.

Jefferson risked lifting his head again and met Quatre's eyes. Quatre sighed. "What you did was stupid beyond words," he said. "You are supposed to learn how to follow orders. Did you pay attention in any of your weapon classes? There was only one suspect and you fired your gun in a public area." Quatre ran his good hand through his hair. "You could have hurt a lot of people. There were civilians on the street."

If anything, Jefferson looked even more miserable than when he'd walked through the door, but Quatre continued anyway. The recruit needed to hear this, no matter how painful it was. "Why did you decide to join Preventers?"

"I wanted to be a soldier but my parents wouldn't let me join back in the war. By the time I turned eighteen the war was over so Preventers seemed to be the only choice." He didn't look older than twenty. He would have to be at least that to be nearing graduation at Preventers' Academy. Quatre's nineteenth birthday would be in three months.

"You took a job with big responsibilities, Jefferson, and you need to learn to face them. In this line of work, when you make mistakes people get hurt." Quatre paused, trying to focus on the problem at hand. He would have time to remember the war and his own mistakes later. "You have a choice to make now. You can go back to the academy and face the consequences of your actions, or you can find another path, one that doesn't demand as much responsibility. Not all of us can be soldiers."

After a moment of just standing, looking at the floor, the recruit raised his head, looked straightly into Quatre's eyes and said, "Thank you, Captain Winner."

Jefferson didn't need to say so. Just by the look in his eyes, Quatre knew he would go back to the academy.

* * *

"Emmanuel Roth, former CEO of Roth Multinational, had his court date delayed. Apparently some of the paperwork wasn't filed correctly and Mr. Roth will have to wait a few weeks until his case can be trialed. In other news…"

Quatre turned the volume down and buried his face in his hands. "I shouldn't have gotten Dorothy involved."

"He was the one evading taxes, Quatre." Duo took the remote from Quatre's hand and turned the vid off. "Dorothy only pointed it out to the authorities. Besides, from what Trowa has told me, the sleaze ball deserved it."

"I guess," Quatre said and raised his head. He glanced at his watch and stood up. "Come on. The guys are meeting us at Luna's. Wufei's buying us lunch."

Duo laughed. "How many lunches have you made him buy so far?"

Putting his best innocent face, Quatre replied, "I've never asked Wufei for anything. He's been kind enough to offer."

They left Quatre's office and headed for the elevator. Duo snorted and pressed the button. "You don't need to ask! You just sit there, blink at him and wave that cast around. I don't think I've ever seen Wufei looking so guilty before."

Quatre looked at the floor, embarrassed. "I know. I should have stopped after the third lunch." A bell rang and the elevator doors opened. Quatre and Duo climbed in. "I'll stop, and I'll apologize to him. It wasn't really his fault."

"That, and the cast is coming off tomorrow," said Duo. "You won't look nearly as helpless without it."

The bell rang again and the doors opened. They walked through the lobby and out of the Preventers' HQ building. Luna's was just two blocks away.

"I'm glad to be rid of the thing. I can't even shower without help," Quatre huffed.

Duo winked at him. "I bet Trowa was happy to help."

Instead of answering Quatre only smirked.

Trowa, Heero and Wufei were already in the restaurant, waiting for them. Quatre and Duo sat down and began reading the menus that were placed on the table.

"How's the arm, Quatre?" Heero asked after they'd all ordered.

Usually, when asked that question in front of Wufei, Quatre would lower his eyes and say it was healing slowly. Yes, the regen cast was a pain in the ass and Quatre still felt annoyed at Wufei for making him take that assignment, but he only had to wear the cast for ten days, and he had definitely been injured worse before. Wufei had been repentant enough, so maybe it was time to give him a break.

"It's fine, Heero," he replied cheerfully. "The cast is coming off tomorrow. It wasn't really that necessary but the doctors wanted to be safe, and they say it would speed up the healing process. They don't think I'll need much physical therapy either."

The relieved look in Wufei's face wasn't something many would notice, but Quatre did, and it only helped to make him feel guiltier. "Wufei, I wanted to apologize for the way I've--"

"Excuse me? Aren't you Quatre Winner?"

Quatre turned around to see two teenage girls smiling at him.

"You are!" one of them said, and their smiles turned brighter.

"Would you mind signing this for us?" the other asked, and handed Quatre a pen and a folded piece of paper.

Out of curiosity, Quatre unfolded the paper. All the guilt he had been feeling vanished immediately.

"Nice abs, Q," said Duo, smirking and looking at the newspaper clipping with Quatre's half naked photo.

"Chang," Quatre said, while he tried his best to sign his name using his left hand, "forget what I just said. Tomorrow you are buying lunch again."

* * *

\- The End -


End file.
